Oh my gosh, she has another chapter up! ^_^ Yes, yes, I'm terribly sorry
that this chapter took so long, I think that I just hit a slump. Anyway,
chapter three is up now and it won't be too long until chapter 4!
I have decided to push the big torture chapter back because I wanted some advice. My friend coughDEANcough has been bugging me to make this story a non-con NC-17 torture fic, which I can very well do; it's just that I'm not sure if everyone would be pleased with that. Would you guys mind? Do you want that? I'm willing if you are! ^_~
Ok, standard disclaimers apply. Don't sue, all you'll get out of me is lint and some old gum. (just kidding, but still, don't sue!) Oh yeah, and *** denotes scene change.
A Thirst for Vengeance: Chapter Three
"He WHAT?"
Bart clamped his hands over his ears as Margie started one of her fits. He rolled his eyes at her continued rambling. He ears were finally released as Margie grabbed his hands and pulled. She then proceeded to yell in his ear.
"How could you let this happen?"
"Hey! It's not like I let him get kidnapped or anything!"
************************************************************************
He still felt the biting cold of his metal restraints, but the fire in his back was demanding more of his attention. Whatever his captor had used on him hurt like nothing he had ever felt before. He groaned, disrupting the silence, and as he hung there in the gray light of his prison he had to fight back tears.
"Delicious." Billy's head snapped up at that voice. He stretched his mouth into a feral grin, trying to appear strong and unaffected but not yet trusting his voice. The other man's voice chuckled, sounding strangely delighted, and for the first time in the young gunman's life his blood froze in pure fear.
His face must have betrayed his dismay. The disturbing chuckle erupted into a demented cackling and someone abruptly stepped from the shadows. Billy's pale eyes widened in shocked recognition as a gasp of surprise caught in his dry throat.
"Surprised? Oh, don't look so shocked my dear, I knew you would at least recognize the face. You saw my mirror image after all," the man's face contorted, whether in pain of glee Billy couldn't tell, and then smoothed into cruel lines once again, "and then you killed him."
************************************************************************
Sigurd burst in upon the shouting match between Bart and Margie and had to physically separate the two. "Fighting? At a time like this? Don't you two know that there are more important things to worry about?"
"Of course, Sigurd. We knew that." Margie shot Bart a look, who immediately pulled his tongue back into his mouth. "I was just asking Bart how he could have let this happen."
Now it was Bart's turn to throw her a look. "Like I was saying, I didn't let him go, he was kidnapped! Besides," he gruffly crossed his arms; "I was confused at the time." She looked at him incredulously; knowing that Bart Fatima would never use confusion as an excuse not to act. She looked to Sigurd, and then back to Bart, who noticed her doubtful glance and went on to explain how this had all started. Sigurd nodded in accord to his description of Billy's flight from that very room, and his own push to get Bart running after him. After the end of this little retelling Margie was smiling knowingly and neither of the two Fatima brothers could figure out why.
"It's about time you two figured it out." She said in answer to their questioning stares, She blushed and giggled as she remembered how she had found out about the feelings Billy had for her older (though not necessarily more mature) cousin. As Sigurd winked knowingly at her she started to explain how she knew.
She crept into his room, quickly entering from the crowded hallway. She felt ashamed for a moment, sneaking around in Billy's room like this, but it passed as soon as she remembered why she was here. She was a girl on a mission, a girl intent on finding out why her cousin and her friend didn't get along and how she could fix it so that they did.
Deciding that her first order of business would be to explore, she stood up slowly and looked around. It felt as if she had just entered a convent. Everything was tidy, nothing extraordinary presented itself to her except the perfectness of everything. Nothing littered the desk, no wrinkles ruined the perfect smoothness of the bed, everything was how it should be. "Yeah," she mused, "if you're dead maybe." Even the air seemed to be filled with a sense of order.
This was Billy all right.
Shaking off the cold, empty feeling that the room filled her with, she proceeded to delve into the few personal artifacts that were in sight. A book; non-religious (which made her stop for a moment, surprised, before she remembered that religion now held nothing for her Etone friend), a few packs of bullets, and a key. She held the key longer than she had the other things, turning the petite golden object in her fingers wonderingly. It was beautiful, miniature jewels sparkling in the soft afternoon sun that crept in through the half-shaded window. "I wonder what this is to." She said aloud.
"Wait a moment, I need something in my room." A voice called right outside the door. Margie panicked, hastily dropping the key and rushing to hide under the only protection, the bed. A few seconds later the door was opened and Billy walked slowly into the room. She watched his dirt free shoes scuff lightly across the carpet and finally stop before the bedside table on which she had dropped the key. "Aha, there you are." Again the feet moved, stopping this time in front of the desk. Margie heard him sit down and squirmed to get a better view.
A drawer came into view, pulled out completely. She craned her head even further and was shocked to see Billy with his arm up to the elbow in the desk. What in the world was he doing? She only had to wonder for a few moments because his hand soon appeared. It was holding something, and she almost gasped when she saw what it was.
Billy kept a diary?
He grinned a little, and using the key that Margie had admired so much, unlatched a delicate lock and proceeded to hastily scrawl a few words on a book-marked page. After that was done he seemed satisfied, closing the small book and re-hiding it.
Margie could hardly contain her curiosity. As soon as she heard the door click she was out from under the bed and on her knees before the desk. Billy had left the key there, so all she had to was figure out where in that pesky drawer hole her treasure was. She pulled the drawer out, laying it carefully on the floor, and began to search. Her hand finally felt a leathery spine.
"I've found you!" With that gleeful proclamation she inserted the key, turned the lock, and began to shamelessly peruse the contents of what she now knew was, obviously, a diary.
After several minutes of rather uninteresting reading she came upon an entry that caught her eye, not because it was particularly long or anything like that, but because the first few words were in bolder ink than the rest of the diary.
I have fallen in love with the one person that I never expected to even cherish a friendship with, Bartolomei Fatima.
************************************************************************
For the first time since his capture Billy allowed himself the release of a scream. The biting weapon snapped again as the crazed man who held him captive repeated his of murder accusations. Billy couldn't handle the pain any longer, and as the cool strength he has always counted on started to fail all he could utter besides the screams that tore at his throat was one word, "Bart…. Bart…"
"That weakling? You call for that weakling? He won't help you." The other man moved to face him and cupped his chin almost affectionately. "The King and the Whore, it'll never happen."
The sobs that had been threatening his façade finally broke the emotional barrier, and the former Etone's pale face quickly became streaked with tears. This man, this monster, he knew! He knew! Billy had hidden that particularly painful memory from all but a few people. People that would never betray him.
Or, so he thought.
"Wondering how I knew?" That all too familiar face twisted into a malicious smirk. "Let's just say that a certain blonde friend of yours has been a little indiscreet. But not to worry my little prostitute, if he won't treat you the way you deserve to be treated then I will!" And with that terrible speech the man grabbed Billy, jerking at his chains as he pulled him into his arms. He pushed his lips to the trembling boy's face and used his tongue to invade not only Billy's mouth, but his mind as well.
************************************************************************
"A diary?"
"Yes Bart, for the hundredth time…"
"But, a diary? Mr. 'all I need is my gun' keeps a diary?"
"Kept a diary. After I found it he decided to give up that practice."
"It's still hard to believe. Plus," Bart still had trouble grasping the fact that Billy would actually write something like 'I love Bartolomei Fatima', let alone feel it; "it's even harder to believe that he wrote that about me."
"He wrote stuff like that quite a lot actually." She smiled as Bart furiously tried to hide a blush and as Sigurd just laughed. She went on to point out the fact that Billy hadn't always written things that were complimentary
Bart just glared and prepared to say something particularly nasty to his 'dear' little cousin…
He was interrupted by a crewman bursting into the room, holding a single sheet of paper and trying to catch his breath. 'He must have run from the control room.' Sigurd thought. He looked the man over; recognizing him as one of the only members of their crew that Billy had ever talked to more than was necessary. The man was tall, not unlike Bart, and was rather stocky with dull gray eyes and sandy blonde hair.
"Yes, what is it?"
"Captain," the man breathed, bowing solemnly to the Nissan Mother and saluting both his Captain and his First Mate, "we have him. We know who kidnapped Master Black."
Ok, I have found out that I cannot, by any means, get rid of this annoying little line! ARG! So, I'll just have to make the best of it. I forgot, in my ramblings before the chapter, that italics=flashback. Sorry, but now you know!
Stay tuned for next week's (I hope) chapter of: A Thirst for Vengeance!
I have decided to push the big torture chapter back because I wanted some advice. My friend coughDEANcough has been bugging me to make this story a non-con NC-17 torture fic, which I can very well do; it's just that I'm not sure if everyone would be pleased with that. Would you guys mind? Do you want that? I'm willing if you are! ^_~
Ok, standard disclaimers apply. Don't sue, all you'll get out of me is lint and some old gum. (just kidding, but still, don't sue!) Oh yeah, and *** denotes scene change.
A Thirst for Vengeance: Chapter Three
"He WHAT?"
Bart clamped his hands over his ears as Margie started one of her fits. He rolled his eyes at her continued rambling. He ears were finally released as Margie grabbed his hands and pulled. She then proceeded to yell in his ear.
"How could you let this happen?"
"Hey! It's not like I let him get kidnapped or anything!"
************************************************************************
He still felt the biting cold of his metal restraints, but the fire in his back was demanding more of his attention. Whatever his captor had used on him hurt like nothing he had ever felt before. He groaned, disrupting the silence, and as he hung there in the gray light of his prison he had to fight back tears.
"Delicious." Billy's head snapped up at that voice. He stretched his mouth into a feral grin, trying to appear strong and unaffected but not yet trusting his voice. The other man's voice chuckled, sounding strangely delighted, and for the first time in the young gunman's life his blood froze in pure fear.
His face must have betrayed his dismay. The disturbing chuckle erupted into a demented cackling and someone abruptly stepped from the shadows. Billy's pale eyes widened in shocked recognition as a gasp of surprise caught in his dry throat.
"Surprised? Oh, don't look so shocked my dear, I knew you would at least recognize the face. You saw my mirror image after all," the man's face contorted, whether in pain of glee Billy couldn't tell, and then smoothed into cruel lines once again, "and then you killed him."
************************************************************************
Sigurd burst in upon the shouting match between Bart and Margie and had to physically separate the two. "Fighting? At a time like this? Don't you two know that there are more important things to worry about?"
"Of course, Sigurd. We knew that." Margie shot Bart a look, who immediately pulled his tongue back into his mouth. "I was just asking Bart how he could have let this happen."
Now it was Bart's turn to throw her a look. "Like I was saying, I didn't let him go, he was kidnapped! Besides," he gruffly crossed his arms; "I was confused at the time." She looked at him incredulously; knowing that Bart Fatima would never use confusion as an excuse not to act. She looked to Sigurd, and then back to Bart, who noticed her doubtful glance and went on to explain how this had all started. Sigurd nodded in accord to his description of Billy's flight from that very room, and his own push to get Bart running after him. After the end of this little retelling Margie was smiling knowingly and neither of the two Fatima brothers could figure out why.
"It's about time you two figured it out." She said in answer to their questioning stares, She blushed and giggled as she remembered how she had found out about the feelings Billy had for her older (though not necessarily more mature) cousin. As Sigurd winked knowingly at her she started to explain how she knew.
She crept into his room, quickly entering from the crowded hallway. She felt ashamed for a moment, sneaking around in Billy's room like this, but it passed as soon as she remembered why she was here. She was a girl on a mission, a girl intent on finding out why her cousin and her friend didn't get along and how she could fix it so that they did.
Deciding that her first order of business would be to explore, she stood up slowly and looked around. It felt as if she had just entered a convent. Everything was tidy, nothing extraordinary presented itself to her except the perfectness of everything. Nothing littered the desk, no wrinkles ruined the perfect smoothness of the bed, everything was how it should be. "Yeah," she mused, "if you're dead maybe." Even the air seemed to be filled with a sense of order.
This was Billy all right.
Shaking off the cold, empty feeling that the room filled her with, she proceeded to delve into the few personal artifacts that were in sight. A book; non-religious (which made her stop for a moment, surprised, before she remembered that religion now held nothing for her Etone friend), a few packs of bullets, and a key. She held the key longer than she had the other things, turning the petite golden object in her fingers wonderingly. It was beautiful, miniature jewels sparkling in the soft afternoon sun that crept in through the half-shaded window. "I wonder what this is to." She said aloud.
"Wait a moment, I need something in my room." A voice called right outside the door. Margie panicked, hastily dropping the key and rushing to hide under the only protection, the bed. A few seconds later the door was opened and Billy walked slowly into the room. She watched his dirt free shoes scuff lightly across the carpet and finally stop before the bedside table on which she had dropped the key. "Aha, there you are." Again the feet moved, stopping this time in front of the desk. Margie heard him sit down and squirmed to get a better view.
A drawer came into view, pulled out completely. She craned her head even further and was shocked to see Billy with his arm up to the elbow in the desk. What in the world was he doing? She only had to wonder for a few moments because his hand soon appeared. It was holding something, and she almost gasped when she saw what it was.
Billy kept a diary?
He grinned a little, and using the key that Margie had admired so much, unlatched a delicate lock and proceeded to hastily scrawl a few words on a book-marked page. After that was done he seemed satisfied, closing the small book and re-hiding it.
Margie could hardly contain her curiosity. As soon as she heard the door click she was out from under the bed and on her knees before the desk. Billy had left the key there, so all she had to was figure out where in that pesky drawer hole her treasure was. She pulled the drawer out, laying it carefully on the floor, and began to search. Her hand finally felt a leathery spine.
"I've found you!" With that gleeful proclamation she inserted the key, turned the lock, and began to shamelessly peruse the contents of what she now knew was, obviously, a diary.
After several minutes of rather uninteresting reading she came upon an entry that caught her eye, not because it was particularly long or anything like that, but because the first few words were in bolder ink than the rest of the diary.
I have fallen in love with the one person that I never expected to even cherish a friendship with, Bartolomei Fatima.
************************************************************************
For the first time since his capture Billy allowed himself the release of a scream. The biting weapon snapped again as the crazed man who held him captive repeated his of murder accusations. Billy couldn't handle the pain any longer, and as the cool strength he has always counted on started to fail all he could utter besides the screams that tore at his throat was one word, "Bart…. Bart…"
"That weakling? You call for that weakling? He won't help you." The other man moved to face him and cupped his chin almost affectionately. "The King and the Whore, it'll never happen."
The sobs that had been threatening his façade finally broke the emotional barrier, and the former Etone's pale face quickly became streaked with tears. This man, this monster, he knew! He knew! Billy had hidden that particularly painful memory from all but a few people. People that would never betray him.
Or, so he thought.
"Wondering how I knew?" That all too familiar face twisted into a malicious smirk. "Let's just say that a certain blonde friend of yours has been a little indiscreet. But not to worry my little prostitute, if he won't treat you the way you deserve to be treated then I will!" And with that terrible speech the man grabbed Billy, jerking at his chains as he pulled him into his arms. He pushed his lips to the trembling boy's face and used his tongue to invade not only Billy's mouth, but his mind as well.
************************************************************************
"A diary?"
"Yes Bart, for the hundredth time…"
"But, a diary? Mr. 'all I need is my gun' keeps a diary?"
"Kept a diary. After I found it he decided to give up that practice."
"It's still hard to believe. Plus," Bart still had trouble grasping the fact that Billy would actually write something like 'I love Bartolomei Fatima', let alone feel it; "it's even harder to believe that he wrote that about me."
"He wrote stuff like that quite a lot actually." She smiled as Bart furiously tried to hide a blush and as Sigurd just laughed. She went on to point out the fact that Billy hadn't always written things that were complimentary
Bart just glared and prepared to say something particularly nasty to his 'dear' little cousin…
He was interrupted by a crewman bursting into the room, holding a single sheet of paper and trying to catch his breath. 'He must have run from the control room.' Sigurd thought. He looked the man over; recognizing him as one of the only members of their crew that Billy had ever talked to more than was necessary. The man was tall, not unlike Bart, and was rather stocky with dull gray eyes and sandy blonde hair.
"Yes, what is it?"
"Captain," the man breathed, bowing solemnly to the Nissan Mother and saluting both his Captain and his First Mate, "we have him. We know who kidnapped Master Black."
Ok, I have found out that I cannot, by any means, get rid of this annoying little line! ARG! So, I'll just have to make the best of it. I forgot, in my ramblings before the chapter, that italics=flashback. Sorry, but now you know!
Stay tuned for next week's (I hope) chapter of: A Thirst for Vengeance!